It was a breezy Friday in July 1872. The canal, which ran north and south, reflected a blue and white sky.Towards the bridge, from the north came a long narrow canal-boat roofed with tarpaulins; and towards thebridge, from the south came a similar craft, sluggishly creeping. The towing-path was a morass of sticky brownmud, for, in the way of rain, that year was breaking the records of a century and a half. Thirty yards in front ofeach boat an unhappy skeleton of a horse floundered its best in the quagmire. The honest endeavour of one ofthe animals received a frequent tonic from a bare-legged girl of seven who heartily curled a whip about itscrooked large-jointed legs. The ragged and filthy child danced in the rich mud round the horse's flanks with thesimple joy of one who had been rewarded for good behaviour by the unrestricted use of a whip for the firsttime.
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